When Veterans Protest: A Nation at War with Its Conscience
U.S. veterans are resigning and even sacrificing their lives in desperate attempts to disrupt America’s deliberate and unwavering support for Israel's genocide in Gaza.
It’s not every day that those who once stood on the frontlines of America’s wars step forward to denounce the very policies they once upheld.
As the genocide in Gaza unfolds, U.S. veterans—individuals who have devoted their lives to service, sacrifice, and belief in their country—are leading some of the most impassioned protests against what they see clearly as complicity in genocide.
Take Josephine Guilbeau, a former captain in the U.S. military who served for 17 years. This week, she disrupted a congressional hearing on veteran affairs, her voice cutting through the bureaucratic monotony with a powerful plea:
“You as Congress are complicit in the genocide in Gaza. You keep sending billions of dollars to Israel. Meanwhile, [U.S.] veterans are homeless and committing suicide.”
Josephine’s words expose a stark reality: the billions in U.S. aid fueling ethnic-cleansing abroad while veterans at home languish without the support they deserve.
The Quiet Resistance from Within
Josephine’s protest is part of a larger reckoning within America’s military and foreign policy establishment. Take Mike Casey, a seasoned diplomat and Iraq war veteran, who served as the State Department’s deputy political counselor on Gaza.
“I got so tired of writing about dead kids. Just constantly having to prove to Washington that these children actually died and then watching nothing happen,” Casey said.
In July, Casey quietly resigned after four years of witnessing U.S. complicity in the devastation. His resignation, though more discreet, echoes louder when considered alongside many others:
• Josh Paul, a high-profile director in the State Department, left in protest.
• Andrew Miller, a deputy assistant secretary for Israeli-Palestinian affairs, also stepped down.
• Veterans like Army Major Harrison Mann, who served 13 years, resigned in protest this past June, citing the toll of U.S.-made weapons on civilian lives.
Mann, a Jewish American and Army intelligence officer, called the war in Gaza a “purposeful massacre,” rejecting the idea that eliminating Hamas is a viable military objective. “More death and destruction will benefit no one,” Mann said.
The Ultimate Sacrifice: Aaron Bushnell
The most heart-wrenching protest came earlier this year when Aaron Bushnell, a 25-year-old U.S. serviceman, self-immolated outside the Israeli embassy in Washington, D.C. His screams of “Free Palestine!” echoed as he burned to death, his final act a desperate plea for justice.
Aaron’s act of self-sacrifice mirrors that of Norman Morrison, the Quaker activist who, nearly 60 years ago, burned himself in protest of the Vietnam War.
These acts are not just about personal despair but a radical love for humanity—an extreme expression of solidarity with the oppressed.
The Burning Uniforms
In solidarity with Bushnell, a group of U.S. veterans burned their military uniforms earlier this year, a symbolic rejection of the wars they once fought.
Among them was Anne Wright, a former U.S. Army veteran and diplomat, who spoke of her shame at her country’s support for Israel’s blockade of Gaza, a policy that has created untold suffering.
“As a U.S. Army combat surgeon, I’ve built my life on service and belief in the U.S. government,” said Dr. Hamawy, a veteran who refused evacuation from Gaza until a new rotation of medical workers was allowed in. “I’ve never in my career witnessed the level of atrocities and targeting of my medical colleagues as I have in Gaza.”
A Call For Radical Empathy
At its core, these acts of resistance are about empathy—about refusing to turn away from the suffering of others, even when it’s inconvenient or uncomfortable. They remind us that love and humanity can drive people to extraordinary lengths, and that silence in the face of injustice is itself a form of violence.
These veterans—through protests, resignations, and even self-immolation—are doing what few in power dare to: confronting America’s role in the suffering of the Palestinian people. Their actions are not just acts of defiance; they are urgent calls to awaken our collective humanity.
Aaron Bushnell’s final words, “Free Palestine,” weren’t just a cry for liberation—they were a plea for all of us to confront the systems we are part of, the policies we fund, and the silence we allow to fester.
Empathy isn’t just a feeling—it’s a responsibility. These acts of resistance—born from a deep empathy and a refusal to remain silent—compel us to examine our role within a global order shaped by violence and inequity. They ask us to grapple with uncomfortable truths about the systems we sustain and the silences we perpetuate.
Can we, as a society, embrace the radical empathy these veterans embody? Or will we allow their courage to be forgotten, their sacrifices dismissed as anomalies rather than calls to action?
Wow! This line has really hit me hard: "Empathy isn’t just a feeling—it’s a responsibility." It makes me reflect on why despite making the noise and taking actions, I still feel so burdened seeing that the genocide is still going on, and why others who have remained silent around me have been so comfortable all along.
I have immense respect for these veterans and government officials. I hope more Americans can see the truth.